I Never Meant It
by GlitterTech
Summary: Why, why, WHY was the question. Why, Britain, why would you do it? Why did everything seem so... right but not right? Why was there this inkling in that back of Britain head that he had just lost something very near and dear to him? Somewhat-dark fic.


**Title**: I Never Meant It

**Author**: TechnoGlitter

**Rating**: T

**Characters/Pairings**: France, Britain, Belarus, America, Romania, Norway, "everyone else" and Canada mentioned, something that kind of represents UKUS,

**Warning**: HOLY SHIT, CHARACTER DEATH. I never thought I'd ever write a character death, EVER. Swearing, Belarus being creepy, OOC, nothing even vaguely close to something considering resembling history

**Disclaimer**: I am not Hima-papa-san-tousan-chan-sensei-dono-kun; therefore I do not own Hetalia.

When France first saw Britain after the incident, he slapped him. Hard. And he was wearing four diamond rings backwards, just to make sure it really hurt. Britain half considered yelling, before realizing that he deserved it, and probably more.

"You ARE stupid, but I'm pretty sure you know that. Were you not thinking of anyone else? Of all of us? Have you seen Canada, _your little brother_, lately? He's an absolute wreck, and he, nor anyone else, knows who or what killed America."

"Then how do you know?" Britain mumbled.

"Because I do not have the eyes of an idiot. Since all our fellow nations have them, they do not see how pathetic and miserable you've been lately," France sneered. Britain just looked even more tortured and sorry for himself.

"…Why did you do it? I know that you are prone to rash thinking, but never anything this bad."

"It… was the Fourth. Of July, obviously. America had… come over, only we were fighting at the time. He came over to mock me, France. He rubbed all my defeats in my face, talked about how much happier he was now. I b-begged him to stop, I apologized, but he didn't take me seriously. And I just got so mad. And you know that when I'm mad, I drink. But I only drank a little, a few mouthfuls. Tinker Bell and Uni and Patty tried to stop me, but they couldn't. I... hit them and ran to my… conjuring room." France, for once, did not make fun of Britain's creatures, since he knew how serious Britain was being, and how unlike him it was to harm them in any way.

"I didn't want to be so mad, but I was! I could feel how wrong it was when I started getting out my spell books, but I couldn't stop myself. A-and Flying Mint Bunny was outside the door screaming, and Captain Hook was trying to break down the door, but it didn't work. And… I did it."

"Why?"

"Why? I didn't have a reason why, there never should be a reason _why_ I would do something so disgustingly evil! I don't deserve to live."

France scoffed. "You're lying to me; I can see it in your eyes. _Why did you do it?_"

Britain shook in his seat until the tears started flowing and he started sobbing into France's chest. "I w-want him to stop _haunting_ me, to stop making me remember how sweet and innocent and un-American he used to be. I was and am tired of feeling so old and unloved!"

"But now he will haunt you in a much different way. You weren't drunk, _Bretagne__, _and you are certainly never this… violent in real life. I guess we just chalk this one up to God dealing with us as he sees fit," France murmured, stroking the crying Brit's hair.

Britain could do no more than shudder and cry for an hour, but France was more than happy to comfort him. When the shorter blonde could finally compose himself, he refused to look up at France.

"I wish you didn't see this," Britain mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles much like a child.

"Someone needed to comfort you, and you are such a loner I doubt you would have let anyone else."

"How do I repay for what I've done?" It was a quiet question, almost like it shouldn't have been heard.

"Die? Spend every second of the rest of your life trying to make up for it? No one knows. You just have to find a way. Will you be okay now?" Britain smiled grimly and pulled away.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, you can go now." They bid each other farewell, and France left the empty ball room with a soft click. Britain almost had a heart attack when a woman's voice started speaking.

"You know Britain, that's not how you do it," Belarus chuckled, laying down a well-loved issue of _Pravda_.

"Do…what?" he asked warily.

The Eastern European laughed. "Kill someone, of course." Britain stiffened.

"That was a _very_ private conversation."

"Oh, don't worry. I only heard the beginning, I regained a new interest in a favorite article of mine," Belarus said, tapping her old newspaper.

"What are you here for? To mock me for being stupid? To yell at me for killing you adoptive big brother?" Britain sighed, unable to feel anything but depression.

Belarus walked across the room to stand in from of him and crossed her arms. "I _am_ here to mock you for being stupid." She reached out and smack the sitting Brit on his hanging head. Britain just sighed and winced.

"What kind of spell did you use? Eraser? Reaper Summoning?"

"Well, Eraser, but… Wait, how do you know-?" The blonde's question was cut off by another sharp blow to the head.

"You. Are. An. Idiot. An Eraser Spell would only get rid of America's physical presence in this world, not anything intangible like _memories_! You weren't thinking of anyone else, were you? Now we're all suffering and depressed because of your bad choice! If you really wanted to get rid of America so badly, you should've used an Eradication Spell. That would have completely rid the world of any on his influences on it, ever," Belarus hissed.

Britain rubbed his head and looked sorely confused. "Does this mean that you're a… magic-user?"

Belarus scoffed and folded her arms again. "What, do you think you're the only card-carrying member of the Occulty Guild among us nations?"

"You, you're a member?" Britain gaped.

"Norway and Romania too. I'm surprised you haven't seen us before.

"Well, you're probably in the Black Magic Division-"

"Among other things!"

"And I haven't been there for more than half an hour in a really long time, so you can't blame me. Stop changing the subject, why are you talking to me about this?" Britain continued, ignoring Belarus' outburst.

"Well, because you're such a shitty occultist, everyone is suffering. Lucky you, I'm actually a competent user, so I can fix this mess you've put us in." Belarus pulled out a knife from somewhere on her person, and Britain thought for a wild second that she was going to kill him. _I deserve it,_ Britain thought gloomily. Only when the blade caught the dying sunlight just so did the green-eyed man see the shimmer around it. _That's not a normal knife, that's her focus. _Said focus placed itself at his temple, and soothing words came from its owner.

"I can make the pain go away, you know. For all of us. When I touch you, I can sense what you're feeling. You feel _so _awful, _so _horrible that you would do _anything_ to make this pain go away," Belarus murmured.

"Wh-…why are you trying to help me?" Britain managed to get out.

"While I'll never love anyone as much as my real brother, America really did mean something to me. And I am hurting too because he did. Did you know, that he told me stories about you? He told me not to judge you because of how you act, but not to treat you too lightly either. He told me about just what kind of person you are, and he was fascinated with you. You are my adoptive big brother's adoptive big brother, so I _have _to care about you too. I can take all of these negative feelings away, with a thought and a murmur. All you have to do… is say the word," Belarus said, whispering her last sentence. Britain could feel Belarus moving in closer, her eyes on his profile. Under his eyelids, flashes of his life played before him. He noticed how much happier and busier his life was after America. Then, how it got more and more depressing. And then, the incident. Tears leaked out of the Brit's still-closed eyes.

"Yes… please, just do it. For all of us." He nodded fervently. The point on his temple disappeared for a moment while it sounded like Belarus scribbled something down on a piece of paper. The former pirate felt the weight of the world and his heavy burden on his shoulders, and ashamedly could not wait to feel them gone. How strange it was that these things disappeared when Belarus touched him...

"Are you ready?" Belarus' low voice asked.

"Are _you_?" Britain countered. Belarus nodded firmly.

"One… two…three." And suddenly, all that pain was gone.

_A.N. BAMN. YES, THAT 'N' IS THERE ON PURPOSE. Did I just smack you in the face with emotion? I hope I did. _


End file.
